


Family Tradition

by Silverhuntress



Series: Ketojan's Inquisition [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 03:37:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2758133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverhuntress/pseuds/Silverhuntress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassandra upholds the fine Pentaghast tradition of dragon hunting. Everyone else is a little intimidated...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Tradition

Dorian fell first, not quite quick enough with his barrier, the sizzling ball of electricity knocked him arse over teakettle, embedding small slabs of gravel into his skin as he skid.

The dragon shrieked in displeasure as one of the others did something unpleasant to her. Dorian was silently grateful he was alive and let himself pass out, just for a moment.

 

Ketojan threw another barrier around where Cassandra and Bull did their deadly work around the monster’s feet hacking at tendons and occasionally stabbing upward to her softer belly-scales. She couldn’t spit lightning at them, not from that close, but her claws could find the unwary perfectly fine.

The lightning she saved for the Inquisitor.

He cursed as he dodged her, torn between making a run to check Dorian or diverting her attention while praying to anyone who would listen that the other mage was just unconscious.

Cassandra danced out from underneath her belly, barrier waning, and taunting the beast. Ketojan cast another her way as he ran for Dorian.

“Boss, look out!”

The attack hit him in the side, it hurt, badly, but he wasn’t dead yet. He downed a restorative and unleashed the Anchor’s magic against her.

 

Under her feet wasn’t so bad, except for when she nearly fell on a guy, Bull reasoned as he rolled under a threatening claw. Nasty was when she flew off and he and the Seeker had to close that distance all over again.

The Vint was already down and the Boss had nearly joined him. The Seeker raised her shield against another lightning bolt and taunted the beast while the Iron Bull gouged at the muscle keeping the dragon standing.

The gouges from the last time her claws got him burned from his sweat and the grit that had made its way in and they kept sluggishly bleeding he was sure to be bruised from the tail, but he could feel the savage grin as the leg above him buckled. “Timber!” He hollered as he darted away.

He didn’t notice the other leg until it knocked him silly.

 

“Bull!” Cassandra yelled. Wings spread in savage triumph, the dragon leapt toward the Inquisitor, right leg held aloft as it landed. The Seeker hurtled across the clearing, dropping to one knee to skid on rain wet gravel, and throwing all her weight against her blade to bite deep into the second back leg.

Shrieking in outrage the dragon whirled to face this new attack, Cassandra took a guarded stance. Catching sight of the Inquisitor getting to his feet, white with pain, clutching a bloodied arm, she began luring the dragon from the mage. “My Uncle has trophies bigger than you!” she yelled at it, darting in to stab before dancing away. “He gave all of the ones your size away!”

 

Ketojan grimaced as he watched Cassandra’s deadly dance. He could try casting one handed but it wouldn’t be pretty. He hurried over to Dorian instead, dropping quickly to one knee. “Dorian, come on, get up.” The Tevinter’s eyes fluttered. “Dorian, wake up,” the Qunari fumbled for the smelling salts.

The salts were a special blend Lelianna said she picked up from a healer she ran with, they made Ketojan’s nose burn as it is. Dorian shot right awake. “Maker’s breath, Inquistor!” he gasped, “Warn a man will you?”

“I tried, can you help me bind my arm?” he asked, “Cassandra’s going it alone right now.”

“Maker, preserve her,” Dorian promptly ripped a portion of his cloak off. He’ll complain about it later, surely. The dragon roared again, prompting both men to look in anticipation of crackling death.

No attack came.

Not their direction anyway.

“…. Oh my…” the human managed faintly. Ketojan only nodded.

 

The Iron Bull was seeing double, but that didn’t make was he was seeing any less astonishing. The dragon was bleeding from a dozen new and deep wounds, including a tear in the leather of the left wing. And then there was Cassandra.

 

Dorian could faintly believe his eyes. Cassandra had been absolute rubbish at dancing at Halamshiral, poor Josephine’s brother had the bruised feet to prove it. And yet, here was that self-same woman, quite literally dancing with crackling, pointy death, with more grace than had surely ever been seen at the Winter Palace. She leapt above snapping jaws to make stabs at the eyes, and ducked stomping legs to slash at joints. She wove under and around legs and belly, jabbing at the most delicate anatomy, and the dragon hit only air.

 

Ketojan vaguely recalled Josephine mentioning the Pentaghast family had been dragon hunters, and Cassandra herself had admitted to helping slay one to save the Divine, but he would have never thought that watching her hunt dragons would be anything like this.

The former Seeker dropped her shield and Ketojan rose to his feet, arm be damned as she charged. The dragon’s jaws lunged for her, but she ducked, stabbing upward as she did so. She sliced most of the beast’s throat open as she ran, blood spilling behind her.

The dragon’s mouth opened again, but no sound escaped her mangled throat as she entered her death throes. Cassandra surveyed the spasming dragon, critically before looking over the mages. Nodding to herself that they were well, she made her way over to the groggy warrior.

“You know,” Dorian said amicably, “I once knew a man who claimed there was nothing more arousing than someone who could kill him with a pinky, sans magic. I think I am beginning to see his point.”

“Yeah,” Ketojan agreed, eyeing the destruction. “I think he might have had one there.”

The warriors had made their way over, Cassandra with her sword and shield returned to their proper place, and Bull with an arm over her shoulder, looking at her in awe.

“I think some field medicine is in order before we harvest the corpse, Inquisitor. I’m afraid Bull is seeing double, and is slightly deranged.”

“No, I mean it, I know some guys. They’d love to just talk shop with you,” Bull insisted, “let me set up some dates. It’d be criminal to let a gene pool that can produce a woman like you go to waste.”

“I am a member of the Nevarran royal family, Bull, I have plenty of relatives, living much safer lives, and having plenty of children,” she pointed out.

“Like I said,” he repeated emphatically, “ _waste_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Cassandra almost did tank the Visnomer on the Storm Coast with me (I stumbled across that sucker when I was three levels below her). If I had managed it, this is about how I imagine it would have gone.


End file.
